Today is my sister Alicia's birthday. She passed away just over 5 years ago at age 42, so she would have been 47 today. I ate mexican food for dinner and played hours worth of cards (Solitaire) - all in memory of her. I gave her a tribute shout out a la Jabbawockeez when I sat down to do the aforementioned. I also told her I missed playing cards with her in a big way because now no one plays with me. (Unless Honey Bunny and I are camping, on vacation or really, really bored at home.)
Alicia and I used to play Rummy 500, Go Fish, Crazy 8's, War, 21 for hours while drinking Malibu Rum & Coke, and often deep into the night. The longer we played the more slap happy and drunk we got, and the verbally abusive teasing and air horn-like laughing got out of hand. At some point, we started wearing our mom's sun visors while we played, to look like old school poker dealers.
The card sessions were usually preceded by a large mexican dinner at Carlos O'Brien's (which is just not the same anymore since it left the Plaza, which also is just not the same anymore). We would always ogle a waiter or two. I went for the scruffy college intellectual types, while she went for anything tall with a bubble butt.
I was 9 when she moved out of the house, as she was 11 years older than me. We only had a couple years together at "home" as adults. She was rescued in 1991 by our parents from poverty and ill health, after her husband left her, from the house she was being evicted from in Texas. They brought her back to California to start a new life. My reign as the only child and sole resident of the three bedroom/one bathroom suite known as the upper level of our house came to an end. It was a little rough having Alicia back in my life daily, and having my space invaded.
And I'm not gonna lie... sometimes she was a social liability. Alicia could be funny, clever and affable, but she was also slightly developmentally delayed. She didn't always have a great sense of personal space, boundaries or social etiquette. Most people complained about her while simultaneously wanting to like her.
A couple years later, the night before I moved up to San Francisco, we had a raging party at our friend Bill's house. Alicia worked for Domino's Pizza and had an extremely hot coworker named Ben that I'd lusted after for months. She joined the party, Ben in tow, when their shift ended at 11pm. She asked Ben and I to come out to the back patio with her, turned to Ben and told him that I was moving to San Francisco and that he should kiss me goodbye, and then she turned and left us to be alone. Awkward. But, sweet, right?
The other thing she did, sober, was keep the party going until about 4am, at which point she turned to me and said, "I guess we ought to go since Dad wants us to leave at 6am for Frisco." As she drove us home and I sipped on my Coors Light, I said to her, "Dad is going to kill me... I've never stayed out all night that he knows about, and I stink like booze." She replied, "Don't you worry about Dad, I'll take care of it. Just go straight upstairs and shower and get ready to leave." I never knew what she told him but he didn't say anything to me. Of course, there wasn't much of a chance since I passed out in the back seat before we turned off our street and slept for the next seven hours. She did too, next to me in the back seat.
In 1994, I returned home for the summer to work as a flower delivery person. Alicia was still working at Domino's as a pizza delivery person. One afternoon I came home from my shift to my mom bustling nervously around the house, putting on her shoes and gathering her purse. I asked what was going on. She said, "Alicia's been in an accident of some sort... I guess she's having problems seeing out of one eye... we have to go to the hospital." I told her to not be so nervous, we would go meet Alicia at the hospital and see what was going on. To this day, I don't know if she knew exactly what was going on and was protecting me from a freak out, or if the hospital hadn't fully explained what happened.
What happened was a broken sternum, four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and knee, and complete loss of not just vision, but of her entire right eye. She'd fallen asleep at the wheel on her way to work, and the car veered off to hit a concrete street lamp, which then collapsed on the car. When the nurse met us at the door, she brought us immediately back into the emergency room, as Alicia was about to go into surgery. As we followed her brisk pace through the hall, the severity of the situation started to dawn on me. I wasn't prepared to see my sister laying on the table trying desperately to catch her breath, with blood running from her eye down into a pool on the table, crying, saying "I fucked up, I fucked up" over and over again. I will never forget our mom saying to her, "Alicia, don't say 'fuck' in public." I ran out of the room and to a pay phone to call our sister Amy. I was crying so hard I could only choke out "Alicia...", and then Amy started yelling at me to tell her what the hell had happened, panic rising in her voice. It was one of the most heartbreaking and scary moments of my life, at least to that point. Alicia went through a few surgeries to fix her eye, but ultimately it had to be removed and she wore a prosthetic eye from that point on. It took a very long time for her to recover physically from that accident and work again.
Flash forward to the summer of 2003. I was so happy to hear that she was moving to Las Vegas with her boyfriend and his children. By that point, she had lived with my parents for 10 years and about as many years had passed since the accident. She was ready to go live her own life on her own terms. Living with the children, each one of whom had special needs, was hard on her, though. Every time I talked to her, she sounded worn. Her boyfriend was a commercial truck driver and was on the road a lot of the time. The last time I talked to her was on the phone in early January, just after Christmas. They hadn't had the money to come to Riverside for Christmas, so I didn't see her like I normally did over the holidays. She asked me during that call if I thought Honey Bunny was "the one" and I said yes, even though we'd only been dating for four months. She told me her life was not as great as she thought it would be away from home. I noted that she sounded like she had a bad cold. She mentioned that she'd been sick with the flu for two weeks.
Again, I'm not going to lie. We were not close anymore. Our lives went in different directions over the 11 years I lived in San Francisco and she remained at home. Talking to her on the phone was difficult. She would often watch TV during conversations, and would get distracted and stop talking mid-sentence or I would realize mid-tangent that she wasn't actually listening to me. The only thing we really had in common was complaining about our parents... how nuts my mom is and how cold my dad could be. I regret it now, of course. Hindsight is always 20/20. If I'd known she was going to pass away midlife, I would have made a better effort to remain connected to her.
That January morning of 2004, I wore my black rattan slides to work because nothing else went with my outfit. They smelled badly and were particularly uncomfortable that morning. I remember walking into my office, stepping out of the slides and onto the carpet barefoot, sitting down and turning on my computer. It was one of the only days I was on time to work. I was engrossed in a spreadsheet when the phone rang. It was Amy, and she was crying. I said, "Oh no... did Gaia pass away?" Her cat had been sick. She said, "No. Alicia." I sat there for a moment trying to figure out what she meant. "WHAT?", I said. She choked out, "Alicia... she died this morning." She died from congestive heart failure.
If you've ever endured the loss of someone close to you, or from your close family, then you know exactly what I'm about to say. It's like the earth stops rotating. You question whether - and hope - you're in a dream. You become throbbing numb. You ask, "How did this happen?" because it truly seems beyond reality that you will no longer see this person (or pet), talk to her, for the rest of your life (or ever, depending on what you believe). It was unreal. My supervisor managed the situation, as she managed every situation at that time. She ordered my coworker (ex-crush/FB/BFF, Tim, ACK) to drive me home in my car, because she said I was in no condition to drive. I called Honey Bunny before I left the office. I also booked a flight to Riverside online before I left the office. I could have driven home just fine, if you ask me. I was still thinking clearly then. It would be about two weeks until the truly crushing and seemingly permanent numbness and grief set it.
Five years later, I feel like I'm managing my grief well. Alicia is alive and well in my memory without that memory being linked directly to heartbreak. When I meditate, sometimes she and Euglina make an appearance to say hi. I'm planning an Alicia tattoo for the opposite hip as Euglina's tattoo. Together they serve as inspiration and push me forward in life.
09 May 2009
22 April 2009
Steam rollers & crab apples
Every so often, I get into what Honey Bunny (lovingly) refers to as "steam roller" mode, or what my mom (sigh!) used to call "being a crab apple". Now would be one of those times.
It seems everyone in my path isn't smart enough, fast enough, thorough enough, savvy enough, and so on and so forth. And good lord, why oh WHY does the woman in the cube across from me droopily shuffle around the hallways all day long, stopping and droopily talking to people who so obviously don't want to interface with her for 10 seconds, let alone 10 minutes, about such fascinating topics as the next union luncheon and why handling printer toner cartridges can be bad for your health?
In other words, why can't everyone be like ME??
I'm kind of kidding, of course, and yet... kind of not. Right now it feels like I'm running in full efficiency mode where I can see potential problems coming down the pipeline from a mile away and I address them with frightening determination and resolve. It's uncharacteristic for me to be so out-there about my opinions, and thus, solutions to problems. I generally get pegged as the indecisive one, for fuck's sake! Surely this is a bi-product of having had to slowly tighten the screws on the two people I supervise, and do so in the most mindful, strategic (and sure, okay, slightly Machiavellian) way possible.
It's also, I'm guessing, a bi-product of having read so much Candace Bushnell recently, and specifically Lipstick Jungle. Believe me, I don't at all fancy myself a high powered business woman. If anything, it just underscores the fact that I have really horrible boundaries when it comes to characters in books, and particularly those that I've been following through several books or, say, an accompanying TV show. I see parts of these characters' lives in mine, and vice versa. Creepy, I know. And yet, that's what I consider a satisfying book read. It's the only way to explain that I've read all 12 Gossip Girl books, and con mucho gusto. And maybe all the It Girl books too, but you didn't hear that from me...
Anyhow, back to stupid people. Ahem... I mean, my attitude problem. It's a crazy thing to be in this head space. On one hand, I feel like I'm really high-functioning, but on the other, I think it's quite off-putting to, ehm, pretty much everyone in my personal life - including my hubbie. Why should I, at 7am when we are preparing our breakfasts, be pestering Honey Bunny about the best, freshest, most nutritious dinner that he could prepare for us that night after work? Nice.
I need to back it off a bit and chill out, clearly. A curtain to draw across my cube opening would be a good idea as well. Possibly some noise-cancelling headphones, and we're good to go! And at home, I need to ixnay on the advice-giving and just enjoy my husband and my life for what it is. Sheesh!
It seems everyone in my path isn't smart enough, fast enough, thorough enough, savvy enough, and so on and so forth. And good lord, why oh WHY does the woman in the cube across from me droopily shuffle around the hallways all day long, stopping and droopily talking to people who so obviously don't want to interface with her for 10 seconds, let alone 10 minutes, about such fascinating topics as the next union luncheon and why handling printer toner cartridges can be bad for your health?
In other words, why can't everyone be like ME??
I'm kind of kidding, of course, and yet... kind of not. Right now it feels like I'm running in full efficiency mode where I can see potential problems coming down the pipeline from a mile away and I address them with frightening determination and resolve. It's uncharacteristic for me to be so out-there about my opinions, and thus, solutions to problems. I generally get pegged as the indecisive one, for fuck's sake! Surely this is a bi-product of having had to slowly tighten the screws on the two people I supervise, and do so in the most mindful, strategic (and sure, okay, slightly Machiavellian) way possible.
It's also, I'm guessing, a bi-product of having read so much Candace Bushnell recently, and specifically Lipstick Jungle. Believe me, I don't at all fancy myself a high powered business woman. If anything, it just underscores the fact that I have really horrible boundaries when it comes to characters in books, and particularly those that I've been following through several books or, say, an accompanying TV show. I see parts of these characters' lives in mine, and vice versa. Creepy, I know. And yet, that's what I consider a satisfying book read. It's the only way to explain that I've read all 12 Gossip Girl books, and con mucho gusto. And maybe all the It Girl books too, but you didn't hear that from me...
Anyhow, back to stupid people. Ahem... I mean, my attitude problem. It's a crazy thing to be in this head space. On one hand, I feel like I'm really high-functioning, but on the other, I think it's quite off-putting to, ehm, pretty much everyone in my personal life - including my hubbie. Why should I, at 7am when we are preparing our breakfasts, be pestering Honey Bunny about the best, freshest, most nutritious dinner that he could prepare for us that night after work? Nice.
I need to back it off a bit and chill out, clearly. A curtain to draw across my cube opening would be a good idea as well. Possibly some noise-cancelling headphones, and we're good to go! And at home, I need to ixnay on the advice-giving and just enjoy my husband and my life for what it is. Sheesh!
13 March 2009
Being on the outside
I think there are two ways to be on the outside, at least in the way that I'm thinking. You have either been on the inside and then all of a sudden find yourself on the outside, or you have always been on the outside wanting (or not) to be on the inside. Either way, I feel like my life has been full of the feeling and while it is usually a familiar place, it's not very comfortable.
I'd mentioned in a previous post that my beloved cat companion of 12 years passed away in late November. It's so strange now to realize how much my cat helped define me. She was like my kid, and I her cat-mom. It took me a long time to realize that vacations were as much about the sense of coming home to her, our renewed bond, as they were about getting away. The last few days of my honeymoon were the most fun of the whole trip, but also the most heightened because I missed Kitty so much and was desperate to see and hold her again.
When I went to visit friends and my parents for Christmas this past year, I "hit the wall going 90" (as Bethenny Frankel would say). I was faced with many couples, all of whom had a pet or pets that they call family, much in the way Honey Bunny and I called ourselves, including Kitty, a family. That feeling of being on the outside, when I was once very much on the inside, was intensely painful. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to come home and hold Kitty while Honey Bunny wrapped his arms around both of us, but Kitty was no longer here.
Since then it's gotten a bit easier, as time has passed and I've gotten used to Kitty's absence and have had to redefine my family to include only Honey Bunny and I for now. But there are occasional glimpses into what it used to feel like being on the inside, such as this photo, and this one, of two of my favorite (married) Flickr folks having arrived back from a long trip to New Zealand to the delight of their doggies and themselves.
In a strange twist of events, I found myself on the outside, where I always have been on this particular matter, looking in and confronting a different, very unfamiliar, demon. Honey Bunny and I stopped using contraception in January as we felt it was time to let fate take it's course. Those of you who know me, go ahead and start laughing. I don't really do "fate taking it's course", and that's exactly how its played out.
Instead of just letting whatever happen whenever, I get a bit obsessed each month, about a week before my Aunt Dot arrives, with wondering if I'm prego. And so far, I'm not yet and it's... disappointing? Logically it's a good thing because I want to party in Vegas for my friend Hilary's 40th birthday in May, and I would like to enjoy being married to HB sans child for longer, and so on and so forth. But logic does not necessarily quell my nutty, emotional, one-track mind.
Enter a close female coworker who very recently found herself pregnant and not wanting to be. She has had her children already and this pregnancy was merely a mistake. I hate to be a Sex and the City cliche but I admit I felt a bit like Charlotte after finding out Miranda is pregnant. Why in the hell did my coworker get pregnant when she wasn't even trying and yet Honey Bunny and I are, so far, without child? It made me unexpectedly peevish.
My coworker ended up having an abortion and, for the first time in my life, the idea of abortion seemed so... unpleasant. I have always been dogmatic about my pro-choice stance, and to find myself confronted with a strangely different perspective on abortion is very disconcerting. I will always be pro-choice (and pro-adoption) as long as the world is overpopulated, as long as children are abused and removed from their homes into foster care, as long as we have to compensate for irresponsible people such as Nadya Suleman and her fertility doctor, and so forth. But, in my own little microcosm, the actual act of abortion is now more real than it has ever been.
Somehow, the idea of being on the outside manages to relate back to being fat as well! I've been wondering lately if I spent years of obsessing about becoming thin - strong emphasis on grade and high school - mostly because I hated being on the outside of the thin girl world (and, consequently, the Jordache jeans world, the Contempo Casuals world, etc). I don't deny that I wanted to see myself as thin in a mirror... but why? Because I wanted to look that way, or because I wanted to belong?
Now that I'm in my 30's, it's vastly different, thankfully. Health is the most important thing, whatever that looks like. I don't have that sense of needing to belong to the thin world, just for the sake of being on the inside, anymore. It seems priorities and perspectives change as we celebrate more birthdays, which is a "no duh" if there ever was one. But, you'll have to excuse me, people, I'm still getting accustomed to being an adult...
I'd mentioned in a previous post that my beloved cat companion of 12 years passed away in late November. It's so strange now to realize how much my cat helped define me. She was like my kid, and I her cat-mom. It took me a long time to realize that vacations were as much about the sense of coming home to her, our renewed bond, as they were about getting away. The last few days of my honeymoon were the most fun of the whole trip, but also the most heightened because I missed Kitty so much and was desperate to see and hold her again.
When I went to visit friends and my parents for Christmas this past year, I "hit the wall going 90" (as Bethenny Frankel would say). I was faced with many couples, all of whom had a pet or pets that they call family, much in the way Honey Bunny and I called ourselves, including Kitty, a family. That feeling of being on the outside, when I was once very much on the inside, was intensely painful. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to come home and hold Kitty while Honey Bunny wrapped his arms around both of us, but Kitty was no longer here.
Since then it's gotten a bit easier, as time has passed and I've gotten used to Kitty's absence and have had to redefine my family to include only Honey Bunny and I for now. But there are occasional glimpses into what it used to feel like being on the inside, such as this photo, and this one, of two of my favorite (married) Flickr folks having arrived back from a long trip to New Zealand to the delight of their doggies and themselves.
In a strange twist of events, I found myself on the outside, where I always have been on this particular matter, looking in and confronting a different, very unfamiliar, demon. Honey Bunny and I stopped using contraception in January as we felt it was time to let fate take it's course. Those of you who know me, go ahead and start laughing. I don't really do "fate taking it's course", and that's exactly how its played out.
Instead of just letting whatever happen whenever, I get a bit obsessed each month, about a week before my Aunt Dot arrives, with wondering if I'm prego. And so far, I'm not yet and it's... disappointing? Logically it's a good thing because I want to party in Vegas for my friend Hilary's 40th birthday in May, and I would like to enjoy being married to HB sans child for longer, and so on and so forth. But logic does not necessarily quell my nutty, emotional, one-track mind.
Enter a close female coworker who very recently found herself pregnant and not wanting to be. She has had her children already and this pregnancy was merely a mistake. I hate to be a Sex and the City cliche but I admit I felt a bit like Charlotte after finding out Miranda is pregnant. Why in the hell did my coworker get pregnant when she wasn't even trying and yet Honey Bunny and I are, so far, without child? It made me unexpectedly peevish.
My coworker ended up having an abortion and, for the first time in my life, the idea of abortion seemed so... unpleasant. I have always been dogmatic about my pro-choice stance, and to find myself confronted with a strangely different perspective on abortion is very disconcerting. I will always be pro-choice (and pro-adoption) as long as the world is overpopulated, as long as children are abused and removed from their homes into foster care, as long as we have to compensate for irresponsible people such as Nadya Suleman and her fertility doctor, and so forth. But, in my own little microcosm, the actual act of abortion is now more real than it has ever been.
Somehow, the idea of being on the outside manages to relate back to being fat as well! I've been wondering lately if I spent years of obsessing about becoming thin - strong emphasis on grade and high school - mostly because I hated being on the outside of the thin girl world (and, consequently, the Jordache jeans world, the Contempo Casuals world, etc). I don't deny that I wanted to see myself as thin in a mirror... but why? Because I wanted to look that way, or because I wanted to belong?
Now that I'm in my 30's, it's vastly different, thankfully. Health is the most important thing, whatever that looks like. I don't have that sense of needing to belong to the thin world, just for the sake of being on the inside, anymore. It seems priorities and perspectives change as we celebrate more birthdays, which is a "no duh" if there ever was one. But, you'll have to excuse me, people, I'm still getting accustomed to being an adult...
14 February 2009
Happy Valentine's Day!
V-Day has always been my favorite of holidays, even when I was single and called it "VD". Now that I'm coupled - and I'm sorry to brag but I rarely take the opportunity to do so - I love this holiday even more. Sure, Honey Bunny and I celebrate our love year 'round but it's more fun on this day. It's playful, sensuous and indulgent.
For instance, this year my sweetheart got me some chocolate. And by "some", I mean a bag of cherry-chocolate truffles and four gourmet chocolate bars of varying flavors. I've only eaten 1-2 squares of each bar, but I'm on a sugar and caffeine high so potent right now, I could easily organize the closets and filing cabinets of everyone I know and still need more to do! (I'm sure the fact that I made cupcakes for HB with a bunch of special flavorings a la Delessio Market Miniature Cupcakes, and thus had to taste-test my various frostings about a million times to get them right, has nothing to do with this.)
For your own sake, go out immediately and find yourself some Vosges Haute Chocolate. Three of the four bars HB gave me are from this woman's line of chocolate stuff and they are TO DIE FOR!
I am, and always have been, a chocolate whore but in the past couple years - as I've gotten more into organic food - I've focused in on super dark chocolate and high quality brands. Don't take that to mean that I'm a food snob or have become discriminatory, because I'm pretty much down for any chocolate of any brand any time of day. It's just that when a food comes along that is so divine that it makes me want to slow down and savor every bite, I find that a miracle. (For myriad reasons, which I'll save for another day's posting.)
My favorite: the Woolloomooloo Exotic Candy Bar. Holy shit. HB and I both had mouth orgasms when we tasted it. It's equal parts chocolately, spicy, nutty, coconutty, and buttery, and it's both sweet and savory at the same time. The only way I can describe it is that it's absolutely perfectly blended.
A close second is the Barcelona Exotic Candy Bar. Yum, dude. Again, it was perfectly blended and both sweet and savory at the same time. I never understood the theory behind salted caramel... until I actually tasted it. I was reminded of that when I tasted this bar. Salt and chocolate... who knew?
The other Vosges he got me is the Calindia Exotic Candy Bar, which is incredibly good but I call this bar 'a matter of taste'. Not everyone would groove on it because it has a lot of strong and unique flavors. Have you ever eaten at an Indian restaurant and after you pay the bill the waiter comes to your table with a little bowl of colorful seeds, offering you a tiny spoonful to "aid your digestion"? Those seeds are primarily composed of cardamom, as is this bar.
It's funny, actually, that he bought me Vosges because for months now, I've been eyeing the Mo's Bacon Bar at our local chi-chi grocery store. I've been a vegetarian all my life but I readily admit that bacon is my kyrptonite. I thought the Mo's bar would just be a wacky kyrptonite novelty but now that I've tasted her chocolate, I'm pretty sure it's going to be damn good.
The other bar Honey gifted me, and not to be downplayed because it is ridiculously good as well, is Blush by New Tree. 73% cocoa!! I'm picky about my cherry flavored food, and this one is perfect blended with the super duper dark chocolate. Yum.
I hope everyone has a lovely Valentine's Day this year!
For instance, this year my sweetheart got me some chocolate. And by "some", I mean a bag of cherry-chocolate truffles and four gourmet chocolate bars of varying flavors. I've only eaten 1-2 squares of each bar, but I'm on a sugar and caffeine high so potent right now, I could easily organize the closets and filing cabinets of everyone I know and still need more to do! (I'm sure the fact that I made cupcakes for HB with a bunch of special flavorings a la Delessio Market Miniature Cupcakes, and thus had to taste-test my various frostings about a million times to get them right, has nothing to do with this.)
For your own sake, go out immediately and find yourself some Vosges Haute Chocolate. Three of the four bars HB gave me are from this woman's line of chocolate stuff and they are TO DIE FOR!
I am, and always have been, a chocolate whore but in the past couple years - as I've gotten more into organic food - I've focused in on super dark chocolate and high quality brands. Don't take that to mean that I'm a food snob or have become discriminatory, because I'm pretty much down for any chocolate of any brand any time of day. It's just that when a food comes along that is so divine that it makes me want to slow down and savor every bite, I find that a miracle. (For myriad reasons, which I'll save for another day's posting.)
My favorite: the Woolloomooloo Exotic Candy Bar. Holy shit. HB and I both had mouth orgasms when we tasted it. It's equal parts chocolately, spicy, nutty, coconutty, and buttery, and it's both sweet and savory at the same time. The only way I can describe it is that it's absolutely perfectly blended.
A close second is the Barcelona Exotic Candy Bar. Yum, dude. Again, it was perfectly blended and both sweet and savory at the same time. I never understood the theory behind salted caramel... until I actually tasted it. I was reminded of that when I tasted this bar. Salt and chocolate... who knew?
The other Vosges he got me is the Calindia Exotic Candy Bar, which is incredibly good but I call this bar 'a matter of taste'. Not everyone would groove on it because it has a lot of strong and unique flavors. Have you ever eaten at an Indian restaurant and after you pay the bill the waiter comes to your table with a little bowl of colorful seeds, offering you a tiny spoonful to "aid your digestion"? Those seeds are primarily composed of cardamom, as is this bar.
It's funny, actually, that he bought me Vosges because for months now, I've been eyeing the Mo's Bacon Bar at our local chi-chi grocery store. I've been a vegetarian all my life but I readily admit that bacon is my kyrptonite. I thought the Mo's bar would just be a wacky kyrptonite novelty but now that I've tasted her chocolate, I'm pretty sure it's going to be damn good.
The other bar Honey gifted me, and not to be downplayed because it is ridiculously good as well, is Blush by New Tree. 73% cocoa!! I'm picky about my cherry flavored food, and this one is perfect blended with the super duper dark chocolate. Yum.
I hope everyone has a lovely Valentine's Day this year!
05 February 2009
Newness & the MB Mafia
Firstly, you may notice a bit of a different title and header for this blog. During my usual 4am "let's contemplate the universe" wake-up call this morning, I realized that if I continue to post as I have for the past year then this is no longer a blog about all things fat but is instead just a blog about my life. Additionally, I realized that I had unwittingly painted myself into a corner with the original topic of this blog (speaking out for all of fatkind, which has grown tiresome) and that it's time to just let go and write without having to tie it all back to fat advocacy. So, from here on out, it will consciously continue to be about my personal life and how fatness may or may not color it. Thanks for coming to my party!
I preface this next section by saying that I'm at home sick today and therefore a little bit crabby and a little bit bored. This morning I took my usual spin around the internet, as I always do, by checking out People, Go Fug Yourself and various blogs by friends and non-friends alike. One of my very favorite blogs, and has been for over a year, is Dooce. Heather Armstrong has the ability to pull off hilarious and deadly serious with equal aplomb, and generally within the same posting. She also takes great photographs and I would give my left arm to have her decorate my apartment. And recently, she got involved in a little project called Momversation.
As someone who has increasingly been toying with the idea of becoming a mom, Momversation originally fascinated me. One of my biggest fears about becoming a parent is, and always has been, that being hip seems to no longer be a possibility after giving birth. The bloggers involved with Momversation all seem to eschew this notion and that's what drew me to them. They are all incredibly hip ladies with interesting lives both inside and outside their respective "mom blogs".
I was drawn to one of these bloggers in particular, but I'm not going to say who it is. I bookmarked her blog and read every day just as I read Dooce. At first, just like with Dooce, I couldn't get enough and sought more reading in her blog's archive. Then, slowly, I began to get irritated with her postings - yet I wasn't sure why. I took her off my bookmarks one day only to put her back on after a week's respite. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today, and again this could be strongly colored by crabby sickness, I started to put my finger on what bugged me... and not just about her specifically, but about "them" generally. This was after I watched one particularly annoying episode of Momversation. Whereas I might find some of the Momversations amusing in sections, it is not particularly helpful in any way to someone contemplating motherhood, to someone who may be on the cusp of experiencing all the things these women are talking about. On a very base level, I'm not sure that Momversation really "works" (as a platform/vehicle for information).
In general, after sampling each woman's blog, I find there is a strange self-righteousness about what these women have to say about their lives and their parenting abilities. I'm getting the feeling that they think they belong to some exclusive club that they themselves founded, and you better be good enough, smart enough, savvy enough, hip enough, whatever, in order to obtain your own key. (And let me clarify, I've never felt this way about Dooce!)
I sat here thinking, "Geezus, it's like they're the self-appointed 'power ladies of lunching' a la Lipstick Jungle or Cashmere Mafia. Huh... mafia. Yes! They're the Mom Blog Mafia!
There are several other blogs I read by women who happen to be mothers, such as author Jennifer Weiner's, and they blog about their kids - sometimes in great depth - but it's not the complete focus, nor is their supposed unparalleled parenting abilities. If anything, I very much appreciate those who are self-deprecating, or at least conscious of their vulnerability, and that applies to pretty much all areas of life (not just blogs and the internet).
Ok, so why does this hold so much energy for me? That's a whole other can of worms for my therapist to open but for the purpose of this posting, it irks me because I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be one of the Mafia... with a hugely successful blog that supports not only me financially but my husband too, with a couple books on the shelf at Amazon.com, with some sort of wildly successful off-internet pursuit such as photography, graphic design or filmmaking. And, it makes me feel like a bit of a failure that all that stuff isn't in the cards for me, at least at this point in life. I'm not faulting any of them for "making" me feel this way, believe me. I just need to take the anonymous Mom Blogger off my bookmarks list for good, as well as Momversation, and live my own damn life.
As an aside, and quite honestly also a reason I feel irked, BlogHer rejected my request to be added to their Blog Directory, based on non-consistent posting. They were nice about it and all, but just adds a layer to my Mafia theory.
On a last note, one unusual blog that always cheers me up, no matter what, is Heather Champ's Flickr photostream.
I preface this next section by saying that I'm at home sick today and therefore a little bit crabby and a little bit bored. This morning I took my usual spin around the internet, as I always do, by checking out People, Go Fug Yourself and various blogs by friends and non-friends alike. One of my very favorite blogs, and has been for over a year, is Dooce. Heather Armstrong has the ability to pull off hilarious and deadly serious with equal aplomb, and generally within the same posting. She also takes great photographs and I would give my left arm to have her decorate my apartment. And recently, she got involved in a little project called Momversation.
As someone who has increasingly been toying with the idea of becoming a mom, Momversation originally fascinated me. One of my biggest fears about becoming a parent is, and always has been, that being hip seems to no longer be a possibility after giving birth. The bloggers involved with Momversation all seem to eschew this notion and that's what drew me to them. They are all incredibly hip ladies with interesting lives both inside and outside their respective "mom blogs".
I was drawn to one of these bloggers in particular, but I'm not going to say who it is. I bookmarked her blog and read every day just as I read Dooce. At first, just like with Dooce, I couldn't get enough and sought more reading in her blog's archive. Then, slowly, I began to get irritated with her postings - yet I wasn't sure why. I took her off my bookmarks one day only to put her back on after a week's respite. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today, and again this could be strongly colored by crabby sickness, I started to put my finger on what bugged me... and not just about her specifically, but about "them" generally. This was after I watched one particularly annoying episode of Momversation. Whereas I might find some of the Momversations amusing in sections, it is not particularly helpful in any way to someone contemplating motherhood, to someone who may be on the cusp of experiencing all the things these women are talking about. On a very base level, I'm not sure that Momversation really "works" (as a platform/vehicle for information).
In general, after sampling each woman's blog, I find there is a strange self-righteousness about what these women have to say about their lives and their parenting abilities. I'm getting the feeling that they think they belong to some exclusive club that they themselves founded, and you better be good enough, smart enough, savvy enough, hip enough, whatever, in order to obtain your own key. (And let me clarify, I've never felt this way about Dooce!)
I sat here thinking, "Geezus, it's like they're the self-appointed 'power ladies of lunching' a la Lipstick Jungle or Cashmere Mafia. Huh... mafia. Yes! They're the Mom Blog Mafia!
There are several other blogs I read by women who happen to be mothers, such as author Jennifer Weiner's, and they blog about their kids - sometimes in great depth - but it's not the complete focus, nor is their supposed unparalleled parenting abilities. If anything, I very much appreciate those who are self-deprecating, or at least conscious of their vulnerability, and that applies to pretty much all areas of life (not just blogs and the internet).
Ok, so why does this hold so much energy for me? That's a whole other can of worms for my therapist to open but for the purpose of this posting, it irks me because I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be one of the Mafia... with a hugely successful blog that supports not only me financially but my husband too, with a couple books on the shelf at Amazon.com, with some sort of wildly successful off-internet pursuit such as photography, graphic design or filmmaking. And, it makes me feel like a bit of a failure that all that stuff isn't in the cards for me, at least at this point in life. I'm not faulting any of them for "making" me feel this way, believe me. I just need to take the anonymous Mom Blogger off my bookmarks list for good, as well as Momversation, and live my own damn life.
As an aside, and quite honestly also a reason I feel irked, BlogHer rejected my request to be added to their Blog Directory, based on non-consistent posting. They were nice about it and all, but just adds a layer to my Mafia theory.
On a last note, one unusual blog that always cheers me up, no matter what, is Heather Champ's Flickr photostream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)